


Could You?

by LittlePeony



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24565900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlePeony/pseuds/LittlePeony
Summary: Spawned after I heard the opening line to Lorde's Hard Feelings.
Relationships: John Bonham/John Paul Jones
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	Could You?

"...Please, could you be tender...?" 

He winced once he said it. Not out of pain. Out of, well, shame, really. 

Bonham looked back at Jones quizzically, a little confused. Then, curiously, his cheeks took on a rosy shade. Forced himself off the smaller in an instant, drawing away. "Fuck, did I-" 

"No, don't-" John Paul managed to catch a wrist, and guide it back. "I didn't mean it like that, I just... I'd like to take things slow..." 

Blue cornflowers cast down at that last part. Still abashed, ashamed for asking. 

A rockstar's life was really all too hard and all too fast. Jones had come to know this. And although he took it all without break, without fail, without backing away... he still could dream. Of soaking things in, really taking his time for something. Slowing down, gathering up all things. It was what he enjoyed, really. Getting to understand things. 

He wanted to be like this with Bonham for many reasons. But, too many times before, it was almost always the same- bombs away, fly through, every second sweeping by was building, then it was over. The way they kissed, the way time went by. How the days passed. 

Jones just wanted to slow down. 

Bonham blinked, being tugged back to his place next to the bass player. Still timid and shy, after all this time? 

He felt the way Jones's thumb pressed into his inner wrist. On those big blue veins, where the soft skin was. The drummer knew by now that Jones was feeling his heart beating. He didn't have to see that the man's eyes were shut in concentration, head bowed just slightly. Bonzo could just know it by the way Jones touched him there. John Paul had done this so many times before. 

It let him know they were fine. That he was okay. 

Using his free hand, John Henry took that smaller arm in a comforting hold. "Tell me what to do." 

There was a thankful smile, and those eyes softened, body relaxing. John Paul looked up, "No, I'll show you." 

Bonham had to smile back, amused. "Of course."

A bass player's nimble grasp took in hold the hand whose veins had been measured for pulse. The big paw was brought up to lips, and each tip was kissed from pinkie to thumb. Then, each knuckle as well. 

Bonham's smile grew wider. Before all this, they had just been kissing, when the brunet felt a hand on his chest, asking to part mouths. He will admit, he had been rough- he'd been excited, and that made him so energized- hard and sloppy and just wanting to French as much as possible. 

But this? This was new. And a very drastic difference. But it was a welcome one. 

The drummer always learned quickly. As Jonesy's lips brushed against the back of Bonzo's wrist, the larger man took the opportunity to take one of Jonesy's nimble-fingered hands in his own, and repeat what had been done. 

Mouths roamed in trails across the hills of knuckles and forearm, becoming roads that stretched from the soft skin of the middle-arm up to shoulders, shirt sleeves being pushed up, neck lines being tugged over so that they could both map out the topography of collar bones and Adam's apples- Bonzo right behind his shorter leader every step of the way. 

That was when Jonesy took his fingers from the drummer's forehead and went back, combing those feathery bangs and chocolate tresses away from hiding that face. John Paul smiled at what he had done. Bonzo was a little embarrassed, feeling so exposed. Just a bit. 

But Jonesy moved close, peering up into those green eyes, the ones he thought of as a forest fire- specks of glowing, burning ember-ash floating amongst the middle. They were so bright, always, and held an energy inside. It was so clear to see, there for those who only cared to look.

Bonzo brought his shoulders up, smiling toothily, and he dared look down at that face, giving in. Jonesy's own blue eyes had a warmth to them. Like looking down at the ocean, seeing the surface but also knowing that the darkening underneath was miles and miles deep. But they were more colorful than the sea- they had a purple-perriwinkle twinge to them, only slightly. Much different than Plant's. They were almost sleepy looking, always calm. And they saw everything. 

Those eyes were getting closer, too, the bigger man noticed, until they shut, and Bonzo felt only a soft warmth on his nose, chilled fingers holding each side of his jaw in place so he wouldn't back away. 

And in return, Bonham threaded his own arms through his partner's, bringing Jones close by his chin, and doing the same in retaliation. That was how it went. Both eyelids, the spot in between each brow, forehead, both temples. Each cheek, both corners of the mouth. Chin. A line across the jaw. Back and forth, one showing what to do, the other following in the leader's footprints. 

Finally, the fairy circle around both men's mouths was made, and that was when Jones' lips brushed Bonham's. Their kiss, now shared, now meeting, was so tender and soft and fleeting, well, they had to try it again. This time, their lips moved in with one another's, like waves on the ocean, like trees dancing in the gale. And the third time, Jonesy's tongue glided across his partner's bottom lip, as if to pose a question. 

Bonzo answered by providing his own tongue. 

The two swirled slow and choreographed a dance between them, performed only for themselves. Bonzo tasted like cigarettes and craft beer. Jonesy like the sweet cinnamon candy he sucked on, like scotch. 

Hands went from jaw down to the 'v' of the neck, sliding back over shoulders to hold each other closer. Eyes shut light, the only sound their breathing. 

It happened that Bonzo had never done anything like this before. He felt his world tilt, being guided by Jones to lay back on the couch. 

When they parted, just to breathe, John Paul picked himself up to look at his work: a very heavy-eyed and calm, love-filled Bonham. So, happy with this, the tawny-haired man lay his head to Bonham's left, on the chest, ear right over a heart. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the rhythm, on the cotton sound. 

And Bonham knew just from the feeling of weight on him, over that spot, what Jonesy was doing. There was such comfort in old actions. The drummer felt calmed by this. He knew everything was just fine.


End file.
